


In Deep

by veronamay



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-24
Updated: 2003-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Orange gets an offer he can't refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Deep

It took all of five minutes to realise that White was bent. He could feel the guy's gaze on him from the moment he walked into the bar, sliding soft over his face and body, making the sweat break out in the small of his back. He resisted it while he talked with Joe, establishing himself as just one of the boys, trotting out his bona fides. Then once he could relax a bit, he began to return those looks despite himself, share the smiles, respond to all the little signals. The commode story didn't help; that naturalistic actor bullshit Holdaway talked about was coming out of him in a big way. The story was a good one, and it called for an audience; having one sitting in front of him lapping it up was more fun than he was expecting. He found he couldn't help but play to it, and to White in particular. The guy was older than he usually liked, but there was something about him, a sort of kindness in his face, that made Freddy think White was old-fashioned. His mother would've called White a gentleman. He had a weakness for that kind of thing, and White was hitting all his buttons.

Joe and Eddie must have noticed. Would it matter to them? Joe was dead certain that they shouldn't know each other's names – handy, that – but he wondered if The Thing would care if he and White boinked each other insensible, as long as it didn't interfere with the job. Made him laugh to think about it. Normally, he was so far in the closet it was fucking weird to think about going public. But hey – he didn't need to tell Joe shit, if he didn't want to. White obviously knew him, they went back a long way. If White didn't think Joe would care – which he didn't, since he was pretty much puffing heart-shaped smoke rings over there – then Freddy wasn't going to waste time worrying.

So he was in, just like that, after a single bullshit story and a nod from White. Too fucking easy. Holdaway was pleased, the department was happy. Only thing left to do was ride it out and wait till the job was over. And if he chose to while away the time in White's hotel room, well, nobody needed to know about it. Nobody expected to hear from him anyway.

* * *

"Did the two of you talk?"

"Me and Joe?"

"Mr White."

He tried not to smirk.

"A little." Well, they had. Among other things.

Holdaway, as expected, was only mildly interested. They were after the big man after all, and White was a small fish. Which was just the way he wanted it.

* * *

The thought occurred to him after about the fifth time that this could be dangerous. White was seriously into him, and it wouldn't take much for him to get in just as deep. The guy was just good. Good company, good in bed, good talker, good drinker. Good at silence, which was absolute gold. And, he thought hazily, shifting a bit, really fucking comfortable to sleep with. White's body might not be much to look at by some standards, but damn if he wasn't the best pillow a guy could hope to have. Solid, warm, and a cosy belly he could rest his head on, feel the slow heartbeat right above his ear. A guy could get used to waking up like that.

Two days they'd been doing this, and that was longer than he'd ever hooked up with someone in his life. White seemed a bit surprised too, always looking at him with this expression like he was expecting something to happen, and giving him this sweet smile when he just went on being himself. And it _was_ himself, too; he wasn't coward enough to pin this shit on 'Mr Orange'. This was just him, pure Freddy all the way, only he'd never been able to go this far before. A cop in the closet never got this far in. It was addictive. He could feel it settling in his bones, like he'd never be able to put the straight mask back on once he got out again.

The thing was, he was finding it hard to care.

"What time is it?" White's voice sounded rusty. He slowly raised his arm up to look at his watch.

"Just after six."

"Fuck. Too early."

He smiled, though his mouth was sore and stretched. They weren't due at the diner till nine; plenty of time for ... whatever. Wasn't going to be his move, though; he was limp as a noodle.

"We could get up. Have coffee."

"Yeah." But they didn't move. He turned his head a bit, smelled the warmth on White's skin. Gentle fingers sifted through his hair, and he pressed a kiss to the rib under his lips. The sun was just rising, light passing through the curtains to fall in greenish shadows on the bed. He felt like stretching, but couldn't raise the energy.

"I've ... been thinking." White's fingers paused in their movement, then resumed, a bit slower than before.

"Hmm. S'good. About what?" He nestled in a bit closer, not wanting to think but not willing to break the moment.

"After the job. What to do next."

"Head to Hawaii, Joe said. Wait till things cool down. Avoid California." Smart plan. Joe was a smart guy, pulling all this together, job after job. No wonder they'd never caught him.

"After that, I mean. I've been thinking about the future." White stopped talking for a moment, and his chest moved strongly under Freddy's cheek. "You wanna come with me?"

Ho-ly shit. He opened his eyes.

"Come with ..." Wow. "You mean, hook up? Like, properly?"

"Yeah."

"Jesus." He was right; White was in deep. What scared him was how attractive the offer sounded. He already liked this shit way more than he should.

"I knew it was probably too soon to ask, but I like you, kid. And I ain't getting any younger." White's hand slipped out of his hair and down over his cheek, resting on the side of his face.

He was quiet for a long time, watching the sunlight move into the room, exposing everything. The words were on the tip of his tongue, only he didn't know which words they were. Holdaway's voice played in his brain, saying, _You keep your distance, man. You go native, you're fucked._ White's hand stroked his face, smoothing over his lips.

"I—"

"Wait." White covered his mouth. "Don’t answer now. Think about it, tell me later."

Christ. He nearly said yes right then. How fucked could he be, that Fate could do this to him?

"Okay. Later."

"And in the meantime ..." White pulled him up, moving him around like a rag doll, and kissed him. Freddy tilted up his face and kissed him back.

* * *

Larry's hand was still warm on his face, but slippery. He leaned into it while his head spun and his vision blacked out and his hands went so cold he could barely feel them. The pain was gone, though, and that was good. Meant it was nearly over. He didn't care, now. He'd been going to say yes, and fuck the job, except Larry probably wouldn't have gone for it once he'd told him the truth, so he was fucked anyway. Either way, he couldn't have gone back after this.

He wished he could tell Larry his name. Didn't seem fair to end it this way, but he couldn't do anything but apologise over and over and know that it wasn't enough.

Who'd've fucking thought it?


End file.
